


running through my veins

by smolalienbee



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Conversations, Demons, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Humor, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, References to Supernatural (TV), Road Trips, Slow Burn, Swearing, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolalienbee/pseuds/smolalienbee
Summary: Hank Anderson has spent most of his life hunting supernatural creatures. When he first meets Connor, he doesn't expect to be dragged into a long road of building a family, a home, all while fighting the demons along the way.





	1. this role I've been given

**Author's Note:**

> I'M FINALLY DOING IT, I'M WRITING A SUPERNATURAL HANKCON FIC! I've always wanted to do it because Supernatural is a long love of mine and I've got certain sentiments towards this show and it's atmosphere. I also love roadtrip stories so this is like the best of both worlds. I've started writing this kind of an impulse, but then the story spiralled out of control. I really really hope I'll be able to finish it (I'm working on the 3rd chapter as we speak!) but guess we'll see. For now you can enjoy the 1st chapter!

Hank's not sure how he’s gotten himself into this mess. One day, he was saving the ass of a random kid, making sure a demon didn't fry him alive - the other day the same kid is sitting next to him in the car, bouncing his leg and looking curiously out the window. He sighs heavily, shaking his head. This is not going to go well. 

When Hank gave Connor his number, it was for emergencies only. He repeated that several times, trying to make sure it got through to him. The kid nodded, assured him several times that he understood. With that, they parted ways. 

Or so Hank thought. 

What he wasn't prepared for, was to be woken up in the middle of the night, with Connor's name on the screen of his phone. He groaned, his voice accompanied by Sumo’s quiet whine on the other side of the room. Hank rolled over, grabbed his phone with a little too much force and pressed it to his ear.

"What?" 

"So I've started reading up on everything that I could find about demons…" Connor's smooth voice filled the line as he rambled relentlessly. 

Hank tuned him out for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and running a hand down his face. 

"Why the fuck are you calling me at ass o'clock in the morning? I was sleeping," he finally snapped, abruptly cutting off Connor's train of thought. The line went dead until a soft _ "Oh," _ could be heard. 

Hank was going to strangle him. 

That one call had started it all. Hank quickly shut him down, but the next day he woke up to his inbox overflowing with messages from Connor. Questions, screenshots of sites talking about the supernatural, reasons why Connor could be useful to Hank. Why he should become a hunter and get on the road with him. 

During Hank's entire stay in Detroit, Connor refused to get off his ass about it. He'd call and text and, hell, one time he tailed Hank until the hunter pushed him up against a wall, pointed a knife at his chest.

His pleads and reasoning had eventually turned into threats. Connor told Hank that he'd become a hunter whether he helped him or not. If he got killed a week into it, fine, but at least he'd have given it a try, or so he said. 

Hank couldn't stand the thought of the kid getting himself killed so soon and so he finally cracked, given in. Said yes. Connor was ecstatic.

And now they’re in the car together. Heading out of Detroit and figuring out their next steps while Hank questions his own sanity. 

"So you think we should go see my brother," Connor says, slowly, casting a cautious glance towards Hank. 

Per Hank's instructions, he’s dressed in simple, comfortable clothes. T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. Very different from the suit he wore when they first met. He seems uncomfortable, uneasy in the car seat. He's going to have to get used to it. 

"Yep," Hank responds, popping the p loudly. Sumo raises his head in the backseat and watches them curiously. "Demons don't just go after random people. If you say they have no reason to go after you, then my best guess is your brother." 

Connor is quiet for a brief moment, eyes on the window as he mulls over Hank's swords. "Okay," he finally muses, a tiny nod, "I haven't seen him in a long time." 

"Guess it's time for a family reunion," Hank shoots him a dry smile. 

Connor doesn’t return it, too caught up in his own thoughts. 

"Guess so." 

* * *

They're well out of the city by the time they stop for a food break. Something about big cities giving him the creeps, Hank had said. All the monsters that can so easily hide in other people's shadows. Connor wonders how many supernatural creatures he had met without realizing they were there.

They sit themselves in a booth in the most secluded corner of the diner. It’s an old place, so rickety that Connor worries the roof will collapse on top of them. There’s no way the place passes any sanitary inspections, but Hank seems far more in his element there than in the middle of Detroit. Sumo quickly gets comfortable, too, curling up on the floor under their table. Meanwhile Connor feels like an alien, constantly looking around, to the point where Hank kicks him in the shin to get him to settle down.%

"Sorry," he mutters, slumping in the seat. He looks like a kid who’s not allowed to have any candy. Hank audibly snorts at the thought. "What? What's funny?" 

"You," Hank responds simply, but before he has a chance to continue, a waitress approaches them.

The woman seems young, maybe too young for that kind of place. Too pretty and too cheerful to really fit in with her surroundings. She smiles at them friendly, one tooth missing. A bush of curly, bright red hair surrounds her head, standing up in all directions.

"What will be your order?" 

Hank only needs a quick glance at the menu before deciding on his food. The woman then turns towards Connor, who is far more preoccupied by the same card, as if he’s reading an ancient artifact. Hank waits just a beat before he turns towards the waitress with as much of a smile as he can currently muster. 

"The same for him." 

The woman glances towards Connor, waiting for some sort of confirmation. He looks up, opens his mouth, closes it and gives a silent nod. She smiles at him and scribbles something in her notebook. 

"Oh- also," Hank chimes in before she walks away, "Could we get some water for our dog?" 

As if on cue, Sumo sticks his head out from under the table. He's panting, his tongue sticking out and drool dripping down his fur. The waitress brightens up even more at the sight of him. Instinctively she moves an arm towards him, but quickly realizes it’s probably not the best idea to get her hand covered in dog drool while on the job. She draws it back and nods. 

"Of course! I'll be right back with the water for the pup and then I'll bring your food." 

With that, she walks away, an easy sway in her hip, her hair bouncing behind her with the same bright energy that she carries. She returns shortly with a bowl of water, then disappears into the kitchen, leaving Hank and Connor alone for the time being. 

Hank leans back in his seat, crossing his arms on top of his broad chest. From under the table, a sound of water splashing can be heard as Sumo drinks eagerly. Hank regards Connor with a critical eye to which the kid responds with a raised eyebrow. Another minute of silence passes before Connor suddenly leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. %

"What is it now?" he sounds frustrated, brows furrowed. 

Hank shrugs in response, an exaggerated motion of his shoulders. "Still trying to figure out why the hell do you want to do any of this shit."

Connor doesn’t respond right away, though his expression never wavers as he looks back at Hank. "Well how did you start?" 

It’s instantaneous, the way something dark clouds Hank's face. He sets his jaw and looks off to the side, towards a piece of wallpaper sticking out loosely from a wall. 

"It's a long story," he says, clearly in an attempt to avoid the topic altogether. It doesn't work, though. Instead, Connor seems more interested than ever, leaning even closer as if that would somehow grant him an entrance into Hank's thoughts. 

"We have time." 

Hank huffs, still not looking at him. He seems to consider something for a moment, his gaze getting a glassy, faraway look before he shakes it off and returns to the present. He casts a glance towards Connor.

"The same way most hunters get roped into this bag of crap." 

He doesn't elaborate. Connor waits, waits, stares at him expectantly, but no more words come out. Scrunching his nose up in annoyance, he tries again, "So-" 

He's immediately cut off. "Can't you take a fucking hint for once?" Hank growls, his eyes burning a blue flame. "We're not talking about it. That's it." 

Connor's clearly not happy with the response he got, but he promptly shuts up. He crosses his arms and looks away, almost entirely mirroring Hank's position. A quiet storm rages on over their table, even when the waitress passes by with their food. She's as enthusiastic as ever, entirely unbothered by the shift in the mood. It's difficult to tell whether she notices it or not. 

They eat in silence. Some of the tension between them begins to dissipate, but they still don't engage in any conversations. Sumo nudges at them for scraps and Hank's the first to react, throwing some at his paws. He swallows the pieces whole, drooling all over the floor. Connor's soon following in Hank's example, gently handing the pieces of food to the dog who eats them right out of his palm. The time passes like that, slow and easy. For a moment, Connor can pretend it's just a fun road trip and not a hunt for supernatural creatures. Hank's sure the peace won't last long, but he allows Connor a moment to stew in the strange pleasantness of it all. 

It's when they're finishing up their food that the same waitress comes by their table. Hank's already pulling out the bills (“No cards,” he had told Connor sternly, “We only use cash. Harder to track us that way.”), but as he hands them to her, she smiles and shakes her head. Hank doesn't know what to make of it. He's about to stand up and try again when he notices a change in her expression. She bites her lip, bounces on her heels, her gaze darts around the place. Suddenly, she’s leaning in a little closer to them. 

"You're hunters, right?" 

She says it in a theatrical whisper, the kind that can be heard all around the room, but fortunately there's no one around to listen in on them. 

Immediately, Hank stiffens. Connor glances over at him, but the man isn't looking, his gaze entirely focused on the woman. She seems somewhat pleased with herself for surprising them and she quickly slides into the seat next to Connor who easily moves to make more room for her. Her smile is a lot more subdued now as she takes in both of their faces. 

"How-" Connor starts, but doesn't get to finish. 

"You've just started, haven’t you?" she turns towards him and he blinks. "It's really obvious. You look like… like a lost puppy." Connor frowns, looking down at himself as if he was looking for a way to disprove her words. Hank would probably laugh at the entire scene, if he wasn't so wary. She has such an easy energy to her, something that makes her appear incredibly trustworthy and that makes her all the more dangerous. 

"You, on the other hand," she continues without skipping a beat, "You've been at this for a very long time." There's something sympathetic in her eyes and her words, as if she understood just how much pain and suffering comes with this line of work. Hank hates that expression. 

"Okay, care to explain how the hell would you know that?" he says gruffly, putting his hands on the table and squaring his shoulders, trying to appear intimidating. While it's not exactly difficult for him, he's already a large man with a threatening presence, she seems entirely unphased by it. She meets Hank's gaze and hums. 

"I know your kind," she answers, "Hunters, I mean. Not a hunter myself and don't want to be, but I know a fair bit about the supernatural. Couple of friends are hunters and helping them out kind of… runs in the family." 

Connor nods slowly, "What's your name?" 

She turns to look at him and smiles warmly, "Ember." She takes a long, good look at him. There's almost recognition in her gaze, as if he was a friend that she hasn't seen in a long time. Connor swallows, forcing himself to look away. There's some intensity in her eyes, completely different to what he's grown used to with Hank. It makes his skin crawl. He shifts in his seat, looks down, focuses on the weight of Sumo’s body against his feet. 

"Alright, so what, you just want to help us because we're hunters? That's it? I don't buy it." 

She hums thoughtfully, taps her fingers on the table. It takes her a bit to gather her words and when she does speak, she sounds far more careful than previously. 

"I have… visions, " she says, giving Hank a cautious one over as if she was expecting him to react. He keeps his expression as neutral as he can muster. "Me and Lucy, we both do. Just another family thing. I… saw you." 

She's turned towards Connor, now, causing him to look up. He stares at her for a moment, not entirely comprehending the information. 

"Me?" he repeats. 

Her smile fades, considerably. For the first time that evening, she drops her gaze. A nod. 

"Nothing I see is ever really clear, it's kind of like having dreams, but… I do remember your face. Vividly. I think you were in trouble. That's why I couldn't just let you- well, I had to tell you." 

Hank sighs heavily. He runs a hand down his face, looking as if the conversation alone has aged him ten years. “What is it about you, kid, that makes you so important to everyone?” he mutters under his breath.

Meanwhile Connor is simply entranced. He ignores all and any of Hank’s remarks, choosing to focus entirely on what Ember has to say.

“...what did you see, exactly?”

She folds her hands in her lap, breathes in through her nose. Her eyes dart away from Connor, they lose focus as she recalls her vision.

“Demons,” is the first thing that she says, abruptly turning her whole upper body in Connor’s direction. “A lot of them. Surrounding you. It’s-” she pauses, licks her lips as she searches for the right words, “It… I’ve never been to Hell, but it… looked like it. It looked like you were in Hell.”

Hank grumbles something under his breath, probably a curse, while Connor’s completely silent. Sumo whines under the table and nudges at his leg, but he doesn’t react.

“What’s the next news of the day, huh,” Hank mutters. He’s trying to hide concern with anger and annoyance, but is failing miserably. He can’t sit still, leaning back only to lean forward moments later, his leg bounces a few times. Pent up energy and worry that he doesn’t know how to handle.

“I know how bad this sounds!” she says hurriedly, now sitting on the edge of her seat and waving her arms around. “But-” it’s clear she’s at a loss for what to tell them, now that she’s dropped the biggest bomb on them. She’s much quieter when she speaks again, “Do you- have a place to stay at for the night? It’s late and- well, it’s the least I could do for you now.”

“So you just told us that you apparently saw Connor in Hell and now you’re offering us a place for the night?”

She shrugs, a smile slowly crawling back onto her lips, even if her eyes still show a hint of apprehension. Hank’s exasperation is enough to humor her, though.

“I guess so,” she hums, “I’m sure it’s not the strangest thing you’ve ever heard, hunter- I still haven’t gotten your name.”

“Hank,” he grunts, “And that’s Connor, but you’ve probably already figured that out.”

She nods, “Lucy’s place isn’t far from here. I have a car, so I can lead the way.”

“Who is Lucy?” Connor finally speaks up, as if the reality has finally caught up with him after he mulled over the newly received information. He has barely gotten into hunting and he was already being dragged into Hell. Metaphorically /and/ literally.

“That’s my par,” she responds, but noticing the look of confusion on both men’s faces, she corrects herself, “Parent. I’ve told them about my vision, so… they’ll be happy to meet you.”

Connor and Hank quickly exchange looks. Both of them seem uneasy, each in their own, individual way. Hank’s not sure what to make out of the entire situation. In his experience, when people just show up out of nowhere and start talking about visions and Hell, it’s never good news. The woman seems far too friendly, too open to talking about the supernatural and hunters and all those horrible things that live in their world. But he knows if something is really going on, if Connor is in danger, this is their only lead. He doesn’t get to voice his thoughts before Connor pipes up.

“I- think we will take you up on the offer,” a pause, a look of question thrown towards the older hunter, “Right?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Hank heaves himself up to his feet. “Yeah,” he agrees, “Your shift’s over yet? We’ll wait for you outside,” he doesn’t even wait for an answer before he’s making his way out the door, Sumo following closely behind him. Unlike his owner, though, the dog stops right in front of the door and turns around to look at Connor who still hasn’t even gotten up.

Ember stands slowly, first, and lets him out of the booth. He nods at her, but doesn’t quite meet her eye anymore. “Thank you,” he hums before he walks towards where Sumo’s patiently waiting.

* * *

Staring out into the darkness around them, Connor feels like maybe he’s already in Hell.

At the moment, they’re in their car, following Ember’s old vehicle. She drives down dirt roads, leading them further and further into the darkness. Even with the headlights on and shining brightly, Hank has to squint to make out anything that’s further away from the two cars. Around here there isn’t much artificial light, it’s all black mass with the dark sky in the background. Even the moon seems to be shining less that night, as if aware of their predicament. 

Connor flicks something between his fingers and out of the corner of his eye, Hank sees it’s a coin. It’s not the first time he has caught him playing with it, though in the last few hours the coin was tucked away safely in Connor’s pocket. It’s only came out now, as the nervous energy in Connor has grown and gotten worse. 

“I don’t like this,” Hank grumbles under his breath, squeezing his hands tighter on the wheel.

“Does this sort of thing… happen often to you?”

“People telling me that they’ve seen a vision of me in Hell? Can’t say it does,” Hank laughs, but it’s a humorless sort of laugh, more so frustrated than anything else. 

Connor hums, but doesn’t respond otherwise. He turns to look out the window again. He’s been awfully quiet since the whole encounter with Ember and that’s also been grating on Hank’s nerves. 

“And how are you taking this, kid?”

Connor’s genuinely surprised by the question. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and Hank begins to suspect he either hasn’t heard him or has chosen to ignore the question. He considers prodding at him again, but before he has a chance to, Connor speaks up. 

“I didn’t even know Hell was real.”

“Where did you think demons came from?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t know. But I mean- I didn’t think it’s an actual… place, where someone can… be.”

“Well, it is. Any other brilliant observations?” 

Connor sighs, the coin sliding right over his knuckles. He loses grip on it and it tumbles into his lap. Tails up. 

“Do you think she saw Niles?”

Hank sets his jaw. He has been thinking about it, too, but Connor is the first one to actually voice those thoughts. Hank has already seen the photographs of the two and he knows that they’re almost identical. It’s certainly easy to mix them up, especially when someone’s unaware of the existence of the other. 

“Maybe. Hopefully? But yeah, I think it’s possible.”

They fall silent after that. There isn’t much that needs to be said, they have too little information to figure anything out and they’re tired. That much is clear. 

After a couple more minutes, it finally comes into view, their beacon of hope and a place of rest. A house, small, one that is probably well taken care of, but it’s hard to tell in the dark. Connor thinks he sees a garden behind it and his stomach twists at the thought.

Ember pulls up first and stops on the makeshift parking space. Hank stops the car next to her and soon they’re all piling outside. There’s light shining on their figures, coming from the windows of the house. Ember smiles at the sight.

“Lucy always stays up until I’m back home,” she comments offhandedly. Neither of the other two say anything. 

They grab their bags and follow her to the door. Sumo’s curiously sniffing at everything, looking at some faraway spots in the darkness that only a dog can see clearly. Briefly, Hank wonders if he can take him out on a long walk tomorrow, let the dog run his heart out on the empty fields surrounding the house.

Ember pushes the door open without unlocking it. 

“Lucy, I’m home!” rings all across the house as she steps inside, taking off her shoes and putting them neatly near the wall. Hank and Connor follow suit.

“You brought guests?” 

They hear Lucy’s voice before they actually see them. And when they step into the room, they immediately grab Connor and Hank’s attention. They’re dressed in a long, flowy dress, light blue, a contrast against their dark skin. Their hair, long, black dreadlocks, is pulled back into a low ponytail.

“How did you-” Hank starts, but they cut him off with a soft laugh.

“Two pair of headlights,” they respond as they approach, “I don’t need visions for everything, hunter.”

Hank throws his arms out, already exasperated even though they’ve only been in there for maybe two minutes. “Is it really /that/ obvious?”

“It usually is. You, hunters, stand out more than you think you do,” they smile. It comes to them just as easily as it does to Ember, but their smile is much more subdued, mysterious, with a colder tint to it. “And I know if there’s anyone my sweetheart would bring home, it would be hunters.”

They come closer to their daughter and lean in to press a kiss to her forehead. She smiles, a wide, toothy grin. Connor finds himself mesmerized by their interactions, every move and word full of deep love and affection. A pang of jealousy tugs at him, but he doesn’t let it overwhelm him.

Ember is soon gone in another room and her disappearance is followed by the sound of clinking of glasses and then a soft hum of an electric kettle. Lucy uses that moment to take a better look at the two men, standing rather uncomfortably in their house. They approach Connor first, their head tilted to the side as they look up at him, their eyes incredibly dark, almost black. They reach out and gently cup his cheek. 

“What’s your name?”

“Connor- My name is Connor.”

They smile at him, a thumb brushing delicately over Connor’s cheek.

“You’re lost,” they murmur, their voice so soft that even Connor has difficulty hearing it, “You’re looking for something.”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out of it. He already knows they’re right, but when they speak about it so clearly… he currently finds himself lost in the sound of their smooth voice.

“And you-” 

Their hand is suddenly gone and Connor immediately misses the warmth of it. With his fingertips, he touches his cheek where their hand laid. 

Lucy steps over to Hank, stops right in front of him. Their expression just a tad more stern as they look him over, but there is an incredible amount of warmth and affection still in it. “You’ve lost someone that you know you cannot look for. You’ve lost a part of yourself with them.”

Hank wants to argue. He wants to tell them that they know nothing about him, that he’s fed up with cryptic psychic bullshit, but something in his mind quietens him. He lowers his gaze to the ground and says nothing. He looks like he’s just been reprimanded, even though their words had been nothing, but kind.

“That’s okay,” they continue, reaching out to touch his chest, right over his heart, “You can learn to love again.”

Hank squeezes his eyes shut and stays completely still. He can feel tears welling up in the corners of his eyes and they threaten to spill. He waits until Lucy’s hand is gone and then hurriedly brings an arm up to wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Tea’s ready!” comes a voice from somewhere inside the voice, Ember calling for them. Lucy nods, though Hank can’t see it, his eyes still firmly shut. He hears their footsteps, hears their voice one more time.

“Leave the bags here and come join us for a bit,” they say gently and then they walk out.

It’s only once they’re gone that Hank dares to blinks his eyes open. Out of the corner of his vision, he can see Connor staring at him.

“Hank?”

He shakes his head and moves forward without a word. Connor hesitates, but then he’s walking right after him.

It has been a long day for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's also what Ember looks like, for anyone who's curious.


	2. feel the home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor spend a day hidden away in a magical house, away from the monsters surrounding them. They take the time to think about their pasts and what a family truly is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to tell you, I'm constantly amazed by how well writing this series has been going for me...... So I certainly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it

Hank lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. In his head, he hears Lucy's words, over and over again, on a loop.

_ You can learn to love again. _

This whole situation makes it impossible for him to get any rest. With a sigh, he sits up. He is currently in the guest bedroom of Lucy's house, sharing a king sized bed with Connor. The room is small, but well kept, with fresh sheets prepared for potential guests. Lucy is always ready to give weary travellers a place for a night or two. Hunters come and go a lot, after all. 

Hank has a hard time wrapping his head around everything that's been going on. He has known Connor for just a few days but the kid has already turned his life upside down. He has barreled into it, demanded to be swept away and to join this crazy life that Hank has been living for years. Connor is quite something else and to make matters worse, he comes with extra baggage. The demons, his brother, visions of Hell and strangely kind people in a house far from civilization. 

Looking over his shoulder, Hank can see the kid sleeping on his side. His mouth is parted, the tiniest drip of drool rolling down his chin. When asleep, he seems completely unbothered by the supernatural events that have been unfolding all around them. Hank wishes he had that ability, to just fall asleep even when the world is going to Hell. 

His world has been Hell for far too long. 

As quietly as he can, he stands up. Sumo lifts his head from where he's curled up in the corner of the room, but he doesn't make any noise either. Hank creeps out of the room in just his boxers and a t-shirt, his socks slipping on the floor. When he gets to the kitchen, he's not sure if he should even be surprised. Lucy's already sitting at the table, with two steaming mugs in front of them. Their lips tug up slightly and Hank crosses his arms in response. 

"I'm not going to ask how." 

He stomps over to the chair, unnecessarily annoyed by the amount of unexplained magical energy in this place. He sits down and Lucy slides a cup towards him. 

"It's my special mixture," they say, their tone light. Hank still narrows his eyes as if he can't decide if Lucy's being serious. He wraps his fingers around the mug and carefully sniffs at it. Lucy laughs and speaks again, "It's herbal tea, don't worry." 

At that, Hank relents and takes a small sip. Immediately, he can feel the warmth spreading through his body. He lets out a breath and he feels lighter, somehow, some of the tension in his body now gone. If there's truly magic in it, he can't tell. 

They sit there, silent, for a couple of minutes. Lucy regards Hank with their curious, dark eyes while the hunter looks anywhere, but at them. With every passing second Hank can feel the silence stretching out more and more. He can't take it. He clears his throat and his gaze flickers towards Lucy. 

"So- anyone important?"

He makes a vague gesture with his head, towards a picture hanging on one of the kitchen walls. Lucy and Ember are in it, along with a few other people that are unfamiliar to him. A white woman with hair that is naturally red, a black man with a shaved head, a white blonde man in a sweater, a black man with a buzz cut. They're all smiling, arms wrapped around each other as they pose for the picture. 

Lucy looks at the photograph and doesn't take their eyes off it as they speak, "The hunter friends that we've mentioned before," they explain, "They're very important" 

"How the hell does anyone make hunter friends?" 

They smile, their eyes crinkling in the corners. They keep their gaze on the picture. "Good question. And how did Connor become a hunter?" 

"Because he's stubborn, that's how. Not because- not because he made friends with a hunter. We've only known each other for a few days." 

"And yet the bond between the two of you is already so strong. Though perhaps neither of you realize it yet." 

Hank frowns and stares down into the depths of his tea, as if somehow the liquid could provide him with a good remark. Unfortunately, it doesn't. 

"To answer your question, though, it's- quite a long story. Not so different from how we've met you two. As I said earlier, hunters come and go, all the time. Some of them choose to return, though." 

There's a certain kind of fondness to their voice when they speak about the people in the picture. The same kind of warmth that they vibrate with whenever they're around Ember. Hank's been picking up on it more and more. It has helped him grow some more sympathy towards them. After all, he knows that feeling, the feeling of being utterly and adoringly in love with your family. He has buried that feeling down in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul, but he can still remember it. It only hurts, now. 

"Why… why get attached to hunters? Surely you realize how fucked up our world is, how… dangerous what we do is. One day they could just disappear off the face of Earth and, hell, you wouldn't even know what happened." 

"I don't think any of us have any say in how we feel about people, Hank." Their eyes finally return to him as they speak, "I'm sure you know that better than anyone else. It's part of being human. Losing people close to you, too. It's difficult, incredibly so, but eventually you have to let yourself heal and move on. Make new connections, new bonds with equally important people.”

There's a wisdom in Lucy's words, wisdom of someone who has seen a lot, has experienced a lot. As if they were a celestial being who's been walking the Earth for hundreds of years. And who's to say, maybe that's what they truly are. Hank's not sure if he'll ever have the chance to find out.

"It's easy to say," he huffs, but there's no bitterness in his voice. Resignation, sadness, the raw truth of his feelings. The way Lucy talks, as if they already have all the answers, makes it easy to open up to them. Hank rarely gets to show what's truly going on in his head. 

"I know, honey, trust me. But saying it is a start. Repeating it to yourself so that you don't forget and so that you eventually allow yourself to let other people in." 

Hank says nothing. He's beginning to see the appeal of this little house in the middle of nowhere. A voice in the back of his head tells him that he shouldn't get too comfortable, that they'll be leaving soon and Ember and Lucy will become yet another painful memory. He ignores it, for now, focuses on watching Lucy as they sip their tea from across the table. 

* * *

For just four people and a dog, the morning feels as hectic as if there was ten of them around, at least. All trying to manage the space at the same time. Ember and Lucy are swiftly moving around the kitchen, preparing food. Connor hovers over their shoulders, trying to help. They eventually shoo him away, but even that's not enough for him to give up. Walking into the kitchen after a shower, Hank promptly walks out, saying that he has to take Sumo on a walk. Slowly, they all find their rhythm, their voices quieter as bubbly music fills up the house. Hank can hear it out in the garden, through the open kitchen door. He can't stop a smile from spreading on his lips. It's all so domestic and they all indulge in it easily. 

By the time Hank's back with Sumo, the table’s stuffed with food, from scrambled eggs to sweet pancakes. The smell of food is intoxicating. As they come in from the garden, Sumo runs in first, panting loudly. He circles the table, sniffs, his eyes set on all the food laid out in front of him. Ember’s the first one to give in, handing him a piece of bacon. Meanwhile, Connor wipes his hands on his jeans, takes off a borrowed apron, a bright red thing with white dots all over it. He looks proud of himself and Hank’s eyes rest on the kid for a little while longer. Connor notices that he’s looking and he grins at him, causing Hank to flounder, hurriedly turning away as if he wasn’t looking at all. Connor seems confused by the notion, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

Lucy ushers them all to the table, making sure that Sumo has his own set of water and food. Something prepared especially for him rather than just stolen human scraps. They dig in eagerly, Connor muttering something about how he never had enough time to cook before. Hank doesn’t say it, but he also appreciates a proper homemade breakfast. Much better than whatever crappy meal he can get cheap at some rundown diner he happens to cross by. It reminds him of their first meeting with Ember, the day before, the shitty diner she works at and how bright she was amongst all the mess. 

They fill the breakfast with easy chatter, something meaningless, for a brief moment forgetting about the gravity of their situation, about demons and Hell and any other monsters roaming Earth. It’s peaceful, incredibly so. 

They each eat at their own pace and by the time Connor and Ember are washing their plates, Hank and Lucy are still at the table, still talking about something over the empty dishes. Sumo stares wistfully at his own clean bowl. Ember grabs Connor’s hand and tugs at it, nodding towards the kitchen door.

“Let’s take a walk.”

They find themselves surrounded by flowers, of all sorts, all colors. There’s not much of an arrangement to them, or maybe there is, but Connor can’t tell. He doesn’t know enough about flowers to even be able to tell apart most of the species. He supposes that’s not the point of having them around, so he doesn’t worry too much about it.

Ember walks one step ahead of him, still holding his wrist between her fingers. She fits in there, Connor thinks, between flowers that are just as bright as she is. 

“It was my idea,” she speaks and for a second Connor has no idea what she’s talking about, “The flowers. Lucy immediately loved it, though. We both take care of it. Gardening is… really calming.”

Connor hums in understanding. His eyes keep darting around, trying to comprehend all of the colors surrounding him. The last time he’s been in a flower garden… well. He doesn’t let the memories flood, shaking his head to keep them at bay.

“You live far from… anything, really,” he comments, though he’s sure the question in his statement is obvious.

“Lucy likes it here,” she responds instantly, looking over her shoulder and throwing him a bright smile, “They like being with the nature. Far from intruders, too. The only people that ever reach us are the people that we want here.”

“What about you?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Do you like it here?” he clarifies. She stops, still looking at him. She purses her lips in thought, genuinely pondering it for a moment.

“I like loud places,” she admits, finally, “I like it here, too, but sometimes I’d like to be somewhere where I’m surrounded by people. Here, we’re alone because there’s no one around us, but sometimes I’d like to be alone in a crowd, alone because there’s so many people that they can’t even notice me.”

“It’s hard not to notice you.”

She laughs at that, head thrown back and hair bouncing against her shoulders with the intensity of her laughter. 

“Smooth,” she’s still laughing and Connor feels his cheeks heat up. 

“I’m not- that’s not-”

“I know,” she squeezes his wrist and continues to walk forward, further between the flowers, “I don’t usually swing that way, either, don’t worry.”

It takes Connor a second before he lets out a soft _ oh, _ catching onto the meaning of her words. She chuckles, this time softer.

She eventually comes to a stop and Connor looks up in horror to see a bush of roses right in front of them. He feels something in his throat, tight, squeezing, painful, memories clawing at him. He desperately tries to fight them off. He has never realized how much emotion he can feel at the simple sight of red roses. He feels like he’s about to spiral down some dark hole, some place he hasn’t been to in so many years, a place he has purposefully been avoiding. But before any of that happens, there’s a tug on his wrist, fingers lightly digging into his skin. For a second he wants to pull away, to run, but then he realizes it’s just Ember.

In comparison to her usual disposition, she looks awfully calm now. Expression schooled into something unreadable as she studies him. Pulled out of his head, Connor meets her eyes, swallows, looks away. Doesn’t glance at the roses.

“They mean something to you,” she says, softly.

He gives her a crooked, dry smile and nods. “A lot,” he admits, bringing an arm up to fold it loosely over his own chest.

“Wanna talk about it?”

The question is so direct that it takes him aback for a second. He frowns, but as he collects himself once again, he shrugs. He feels like this is something that would normally be done with long time friends. Trading secrets, sharing stories and memories of the painful, complicated past and present that could’ve been but never was and never will be. Yet there she is, a woman he has barely known for maybe half a day and Connos finds himself genuinely wanting to share everything with her. All those things that have been building up in him over many long years.

“My mother keeps red roses,” he starts, slowly, finally allowing himself a glance towards the flowers and their threatening spikes, “She has this huge garden, in the back of her house. Filled with red roses. Some people would probably call it beautiful, but I think- I think it’s always been too methodical. Too cold. Everything about her is like that.”

“A flower of passion, frozen.”

What she says is so poetic and yet so strangely accurate when it comes to his mother’s flowers, to Amanda herself, that he can’t stop himself from physically wincing. Ember squeezes his hand gently, grounding him.

“I feel bad, sometimes,” he speaks again. He knows he’s going down a completely different train of thought, now, but it’s difficult to stay on track when he’s being brought so far back into the past, “I feel bad that I’ve isolated myself from her when she has never meant to bring any harm to me. She is… so incredibly intelligent and passionate in what she does, but she’s never… she’s not meant to be a family person. I don’t think I’m meant to be a family person, either, but… growing up, things were different.”

“People see family differently,” Ember comments, “For some, family is blood. For some it’s friends, for some it’s their pets. For some family is their own head. I guess when it comes to blood family it’s hard to tell if everyone shares the same kind of sentiment.”

“Lucy is your- blood family?” Connor finds himself asking without thinking twice about it. Ember doesn’t seem bothered by it, though, just nods in response. “You’re very similar,” he continues and she gives him an expression that’s a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity, “I mean it. You seem different at first, but looking closer, you’re incredibly alike.”

She smiles at his assessment, but doesn’t share her thoughts. With her free hand, she reaches out towards one of the flowers.

“I think it’s okay not to love your parent. Not to love your blood family. You can’t force yourself to feel something for anyone, no matter how hard you may try. If you force yourself to love someone, you’ll end up hating them and yourself, instead.”

She cups one of the flowers with her hand and as she does, a petal falls off. It falls slowly to the ground, but then is carried up into the air again as wind blows past them.

“It’s strange, to hear this from you,” Connor says while trailing the petal with his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

She glances over at him as she speaks, but he’s still not looking at her.

“You and Lucy love each other so much. It’s obvious.”

“I know, we’re incredibly lucky that we do. Maybe that’s why it’s easier for me to think it’s okay not to love someone.”

The wind picks up again and the lone rose petal flies away into the distance, followed by a crumpled, greyish leaf. Connor and Ember watch them as they disappear out of their vision. Somewhere out there they must find themselves in the wind again.

* * *

It’s easy to notice how comfortable Hank and Connor become the more time they spend there. Hank, especially. He was so wary of Ember at first, but now he’s open smiles, tooth gap and all. He doesn’t even push to leave as soon as possible. Instead, they all mutually agree that the hunters can take the rest of the day off and leave the following morning. Even in the tranquility of this little slice of heaven, they know they’re in a rush, demons and Connor’s brother constantly in the back of their minds. The topic comes up during the day, once more when Connor mentions his brother, mentions how they’re going after him and how it could’ve been him in the vision. Ember visibly deflates, relieved to hear that perhaps it wasn’t Connor who she had seen in Hell. Otherwise, though, the rest of the day passes in a similar atmosphere to the breakfast, slow, warmth radiating off each of them. Hank and Connor nearly glow with it.

When it gets dark outside, they all say their respective goodnights and then the two hunters head off into their shared room, with Sumo at their feet. They’re quiet as they get ready for bed, change their clothes, slip under the covers. They lay on their backs, eyes wide open. They know neither of them is sleeping yet.

“I like it here,” Connor says, a soft kind of longing in his voice, a wish to stay.

“Yeah, it’s- pretty nice,” Hank tries to make it seem like he’s not as enthusiastic, but Connor knows better. He smiles to himself, doesn’t prod at Hank to try and share the full extent of his feelings.

“I assume hunting isn’t usually this nice,” Connor muses, stealing a glance at Hank who barks a laugh in response. 

“Yeah, no. You’ve got a real lucky start, kid.”

Connor nods at that and suddenly shifts onto his side so that he’s facing Hank. He puts an elbow under his head and stares at Hank’s outline, illuminated only by the moonlight from out the window.

“Can you tell me what happened? Why you started hunting?”

Here, in the darkness of the bedroom and after many conversations about family, emotion and the past, Hank doesn’t have it in him to get angry. Lucy’s words have stuck with him, about letting people in, about moving on. Maybe instead of ignoring the past, he should face it head on. Connor deserves to know.

“I lost someone.”

It’s not much of a surprise, really. Even though the two of them haven’t been around each other for a long time yet, Hank’s loss has come across quite clearly. The pained look he sometimes got in his eyes, the anger at being reminded of his past. It’s different, though, to hear about it from the man himself. There’s vulnerability in it that Connor appreciates, the trust that Hank must have, to be able to speak up about it. The kid’s silent, giving him the time to continue if he chose to. 

“My son,” Hank adds, closing his eyes. “I, um- I lost my son.”

There’s another long pause after that and eventually it’s obvious Hank’s not going to continue. In the dark, it’s hard to tell his expression, but Connor can practically feel it, it becomes so tangible in the air. Slowly, he reaches out and places a hand on Hank’s elbow. The man doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t pull away from the touch either. They stay there like that, enveloped by the magical essence of the house around them, the kind people that have taken them in and treated them like part of their small family. For the first time in a very long time, Connor has felt like part of something special and he knows that it’s the same for Hank. He can see it in his eyes, in his behaviour, much more open than usual.

Eventually, they fall asleep like that. Easy and comfortable in each other’s presence. Safe, even with a ghost of an unfinished conversation on their tongues. 


	3. keep on running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor continue their way to Niles' place, sharing many quiet moments while they move forward.

In the early morning, the time goes slow as Hank and Connor pack their belongings. 

They know It’s the very last moments they have out there so they try to take their time. Even Ember seems to slow down as she prepares food for them, quieter than usual. Everything is like molasses, bittersweet and slow. Bags being shuffled around, dumped into the trunk of their car, a hum of the heating water, a knife scraping against a cutting board. They’re silent, for the most part. Sumo roams between their feet, lost, feeling the shift in the mood.

When Connor brings his bag out, Lucy is out there as well, sitting on the porch with their head tilted up towards the sky. 

"There's a long road in front you, dear," Connor turns around at the sound of their voice. They're not looking at him. Their body is relaxed, they seem to be the most calm out of all of them. 

"...have you seen anything? About me or Hank?" 

"I see a lot of things, Connor. Constantly. Possible futures, different timelines, outcomes of various choices. While Ember only sees flashes of past and future, I'm always surrounded by… everything." They smile, a tiny sad tug of their lips. Connor takes in their form, the wave of relief they bring with their presence.

Hesitantly, he walks over to the car and drops his bag into the trunk. He then turns around and joins Lucy on the bench. 

"Is that why you're out here? Because it's… less noise?" 

They nod and Connor hums in understanding. 

"I can't imagine how you handle it. I believe… part of the reason why I wanted to go with Hank is because I couldn’t stand all that was around me. It's… so much, all the information, the responsibilities." He tips his head down and glances at his own fingers, how they're twisted and laced together. "And you experience all of that, but multiplied." 

Slowly, they reach out and place a hand on his knee, a light touch, a gentle sign of understanding.

“Usually, it’s manageable,” they respond, “When you live with something for so long, you learn to accept it. To envelop it. If my mind ever went quiet, I… truly, I don’t know what I would do.”

They stretch their arms out in front of them, the early morning sun shines in their face. Connor makes sure to take in all their features, memorize them, keep them close to his heart. He’s not sure if he’ll ever see them again, even though he knows how badly he wants to.

Lucy gets to their feet and Connor follows their movements with his gaze. When they turn to look at him, there’s a dazzling smile on their face. Connor remembers the moment Ember first came to their table and he realizes they were truly meant to end up there.

“We’ll see each other again, Connor.”

* * *

Later that morning, Connor, Hank and Sumo pile into the car. Ember is almost in tears as they all say their goodbyes. She’s still smiling, that same bright energy that Connor has come to associate with her. As they drive down the dirt road, Connor keeps looking out at them until eventually the house disappears out of their view. Silence falls over both of them.

“That was… nice.”

Hank refuses to look at Connor as he says it. He’s looking straight ahead at the road, hands tight on the wheel. There’s some strange tension in his body, something that hasn’t been there when they were still at Lucy and Ember’s home. Connor sighs and rests his forehead against the glass.

“We’ll see them again,” he says, with the same kind of confidence that Lucy had when they said it to him.

Hank doesn’t give him anything, neither a yes nor a no. He reaches out to turn up the music but Connor places a hand on top of his to stop him. That’s what finally gets Hank to glance over at him, his brows furrowed in quiet confusion. He pulls his hand back and gives up on raising the volume.

“We need to focus on reaching your brother. We’ve taken enough of a detour already.”

Connor nods slowly, scratching at the back of his neck. He feels his phone burning a hole in his pocket, a phone that has been turned off ever since they left Detroit. He thinks about calling Niles, but he knows he can’t deal with the missed messages. Or maybe the lack of them.

“It’s still like a day’s drive to go, if not more.”

“Yeah, that’s why we can’t afford to go out of our way anymore.”

Connor stares at the planes of asphalt in front of them. Their unknown future, the troubles they will surely be facing as they continue moving forward. He smiles and turns his head towards Hank, watching the man’s profile for a moment.

“A family reunion,” he hums, echoes Hank’s words from a few days before. He turns up the music.

Strangely, he’s looking forward to that unknown future.

* * *

Many hours pass them by while they drive down various roads of America. Sometimes, they talk, sometimes they stay in silence or listen to music. Despite Hank’s insistence that they should listen to his playlists, Connor manages to get a say on a few of the songs. The tension in Hank’s shoulders evaporates as he once again gets used to the road, to the feeling of the engine roaring around him. It’s in the evening that they stop at a motel, their bodies cramped and stiff from the travel. They stretch, their joints popping as step by step they make their way to the room. Even Sumo is less enthusiastic, tiredly trailing after them and immediately plopping down on one of the beds. Connor finds himself a chair and slumps in it, running a hand down his face. It’s not even that late, but he already feels exhausted, cooped up in the car for way too long. They haven’t taken many breaks, too focused on moving forward. 

When suddenly there’s a gun on the table in front of him, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up, giving Hank an incredulous look.   
“You said you can shoot. How well?”

Connor frowns, glancing between the gun and Hank’s face. 

“Do you want me to demonstrate right now?”

Hank huffs, shaking his head. He picks the gun up again and eyes it for a second.

“No, kid. Not here. But yeah, we’re gonna go see how good your aim is really.”

“Right now?” 

Hank’s already putting the gun in a holster on his belt and he looks like he’s prepared to leave. Connor’s not sure why he’s bothering with the question, but he still sits there, waiting for a confirmation. 

“Obviously, yeah. What are you waiting for?”

At that, the kid finally gets to his feet. Sumo comes closer to the two of them, looking confused as to why they’re moving around so much. Hank reaches for him and gives him a few gentle pats. 

“Don’t worry, boy, we won’t be long.”

* * *

They head out in a random direction, searching for a secluded spot somewhere near the town of Nowhere, Michigan that they have found themselves in. Sun is setting and the sky is getting dark. Connor questions whether this is really the best time for a shooting practice, but he knows why Hank has chosen to be under the cover of darkness. The last thing they need are onlookers, people with too many questions that they can’t answer. 

As they drive, Connor sticks his head out the window, letting the breeze ruffle his hair, his cowlick flicking back with the wind. Hank snorts at the sight, reaching out with one hand to tug at his shoulder.

“What are you, five?”

Connor shoots him a look and shakes his hand off gently. He keeps his head out, unbothered by Hank’s complaints.

“It’s nice to feel the wind,” he responds, voice raised a little to let it carry over the sound of music and wind blowing. “When I was in Detroit, I didn’t get a chance to drive around much.”

Hank rolls his eyes, placing his hand back on the wheel.

“Is that what this is about? You’ve been longing for some grand road trip adventure, like something out of a movie?”

Connor laughs and closes his eyes as a particularly strong breeze hits his face. He looks at peace there, as if he was made for this. For dark roads and strange encounters, for facing monsters in the night. Hank has a hard time tearing his eyes off him to focus on the road in front of him.

“No,” he says, “No, it’s not that. Well, maybe it’s partially about that, I’m not entirely sure. It’s… good to feel like a part of something bigger than myself.”   
“You say that as if this is something good. Or like you’ve been doing this for years. You’ve barely just gotten started, kid, you have no damn clue what this is like.”

“I never said this is good,” Connor shrugs, “Or that I know a lot about it. I can feel it, though. And, I don’t know. If there are people who have visions about my brother or me, like Ember and Lucy, then maybe this was meant to be. Have you ever thought about it? That maybe we were meant to meet and do this together.”

Hank takes a sharp right off the road and Connor’s eyes fly open. He watches as the car rolls off the street and onto dirt, an open field where there’s nothing and no one around. Just a couple of trees and a road sign. Hank sets his jaw.

“Bullshit,” he mutters, “Life isn’t some predestined mystic load of crap.”

Connor sits up in his seat. The car stops and he immediately pushes the door open.

“I’m not religious. Never have been, really, but… facing a demon really changes the way you think about life.”

He climbs out of the car and stretches his arms out. Hank takes his time with getting out. Once he’s out, he immediately makes a beeline for the trunk, opening it up with a soft grunt.

“I’ve faced way more of these fuckers than you and I still don’t believe in destiny,” he comments while digging around in his bag. He eventually straightens his back, a gun in his hand. He offers it to Connor.

“I think there’s been too many happy accidents to say that, now.” 

Hank grumbles something in response and closes the trunk with a loud thud, effectively shutting off any other arguments Connor may have. He wants to hear none of it, really. 

He steps around the kid and points a finger at the sign. It’s illuminated by the lights from the car and is clearly visible against the dark backdrop.

“That’s your target.”

Connor lifts his head to take a good look at it. It’s far enough to be a challenge, especially when the lightning isn’t the best, but it’s also close enough for the task to be doable. While Connor is observing the sign, Hank slowly backs off, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t say anything, just raises a brow at him. Connor knows this is a challenge and that he finally has a chance to prove himself. After all, he doesn’t want Hank to change his mind about him. He knows he can be useful and he’ll show it, right there and then.

He takes a step back, raises his arm. His eyes narrowed, he takes aim.

Shoot.

With a sharp noise, the bullet leaves a visible mark right in the middle of the sign. Behind himself, Connor hears Hank’s low, impressed whistle and he knows he’s done well. 

He smiles and takes aim yet again.

* * *

It’s late at night, yet in front of the motel a lone figure can be seen. He’s sitting on an old, wooden bench, head tipped back as he looks up at the sky. A cigarette between his lips and smoke trailing up towards the stars.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Connor turns his head to see Hank approaching the bench. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and he looks tired. Exhausted, even. He sits down next to him.

“I usually don’t,” Connor says quietly and takes another long drag.

It’s been a few hours since they returned to the motel. Once Hank was satisfied with Connor’s shooting, they made their way back, illuminated only by the dim light of the moon. They took showers, got settled for the night. It was just a matter of an hour or two before they were both awake again, restless and unable to sleep. 

Hank sighs as he gestures for Connor to lend him a cigarette. The kid complies immediately, reaching into his lap for the packet and pulling one out. He hands it to Hank along with a lighter and soon they’re both surrounded by smoke, taste of nicotine on their lips.

“Did I wake you up?” Connor asks, glancing over at the other man. Hank shakes his head, letting out a breath.

“Nah, kid. I hardly ever get any sleep.”

“You were doing fine at Lucy and Ember’s.”

Hank snorts and taps some of the ash down onto the ground. He stretches his legs out in front of him.

“Yeah, well. What do you want me to say? Admit that I was feeling better there?”

Connor shrugs in response, squishing the butt of the cigarette against a trash bin.

“Maybe, yes. It’d be nice to hear it.”

“And I think it’d be best if we just put that place in the past.”

“You really don’t think we’ll see them again?”

Hank swallows thickly, then puts the cigarette back between his lips. He closes his eyes as he takes a few more drags. He lets the smoke roll between his teeth before he responds.

“When you’re living on the road, you rarely meet the same people twice, Connor.”

At his words, Connor scrunches up his face and stands up. He crosses his arms on his chest and begins to pace back and forth. Anxious, frustrated, pained. Hank doesn’t try to comfort him, even though a part of him wants to reach out towards him. He knows he has to learn the hard way, eventually. Hunter life is not a piece of cake and Connor needs to realize this, sooner or later.

“...what were you doing before you became a hunter?”

The question is quite unexpected and Hank pauses, his hand hovering in the air somewhere on the way to his mouth, cigarette loosely placed between his fingers. He sighs softly, glancing up to meet Connor’s gaze. The kid’s eyes are curious, genuinely interested in him. Hank’s not sure what it is about him that Connor finds so fascinating.

“I was a cop,” he finally mutters, finishing off the cigarette with one more drag, “A Lieutenant, even. Before my whole life went to shit.”

He throws the cigarette onto the ground and stomps on it until it’s out. He pushes his hands into his pockets and leans back, tipping his head to look up at the night sky.

“A cop,” Connor repeats quietly.

“And what about you, huh? Never really got to hear what you were doing before you decided to just up and run away with me.”

Connor stops walking at this point. He moves his arms and wraps them around himself. He also looks up. He lets out a small breath, eyes half open.

“Dropped out of law school,” Connor starts slowly, scrunching up his nose, “Worked several retail jobs. Tried to get back into law school. Thought about police academy for a while, but I felt like it was too late for me,” he pauses, twisting his body to look back at Hank, “I’ve never been particularly successful at getting my life in order.”

“So that’s it, then? You thought this would be your order?”

“I just figured I can do something meaningful with this. Something that I failed to do so many times already.”

Hank gets off the bench with a huff. He takes a few steps closer to Connor until their shoulders are brushing.

“You’re pretty damn idealistic, you know that?”

Connor shakes his head in response, leaning to the side and allowing their arms to press more into each other.

“I wouldn’t say so. I just try to see the good in people and I try to help them. But I’m well aware the world isn’t beautiful.”

Without a word, Hank reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder. They’re both still looking at each other, their eyes locked on one another. Hank gives a squeeze to Connor’s shoulder and then tugs at it gently to get him to move.

“Come on, kid. We’ve still got a few hours of the night, we should get some sleep.”

With a nod, Connor follows him back to their room.

* * *

In less than 8 hours, they’re back on the road. As it turns out, Connor finds sleeping in a car much easier, especially when the exhaustion is finally catching up to him. Hank has to stay alert, but it’s not the first time he’s done it. Sumo’s roaming around in the back for most of the ride. 

Alone with his own thoughts, Hank tries his best not to focus on the past or the future. He keeps his eyes and his mind on the road in front of him, on the simplicity of driving, on the snoring figure in the seat next to his. Time passes by, houses and roads and small diners. They make a few stops and after a while of driving, they arrive at their destination. By the time they drive into the city of New York, Connor’s wide awake and sitting with his back straight, wide eyes taking in everything around them. Large buildings towering over them, cars surrounding them from all directions. It’s been a while since Connor last visited and so the sight of New York amazes him, just like how it did many years ago. It’s a busy city, always full of life, full of opportunities and dying dreams. Somehow, it feels like a fitting place for Niles and Connor’s never been surprised that his brother has found his way there, hiding somewhere in the crowds. At first Connor had been convinced Niles was there to move forward with his future, but now he begins to suspect the reason is completely different.

“I hate this place,” Hank mutters under his breath as they get stuck in yet another traffic jam. He crosses his arms, leaning back in the seat. 

“You were already complaining about Detroit,” Connor points out, rolling down the window to stick his head out of the car.

“Yeah, and this is much worse.”

There’s a cacophony of noises around them, car engines, honking, angry drivers impatient with each other. Sumo whines in the backseat.

“I don’t think Niles’ place is far from here, at least.”

“Yeah, well. In this jam it’s going to take forever to get there.”

Connor hums softly and closes his eyes, opting to try and relax while the car slowly rolls forward.

Eventually, they manage to get out of the worst of it and they take turns onto smaller and quieter roads of New York. Connor’s sitting with a physical map of the city spread out on his lap and Hank’s phone on top of it, GPS turned on. He’s directing him to the best of his abilities as they go deeper and deeper into the city. When they reach Niles’ street, they find themselves in a place that feels strangely quiet, hidden right in the middle of such a busy city. There’s clearly not much going on around there, the street is small, with apartment buildings on both sides. Surely, it doesn’t look like a safe place and both of them tense up as they drive further.

They stop, eventually, in front of one of the many buildings that looks the same like the rest of them. They make their way out of the car, Sumo peeking his head through the window to watch them. They’re quiet. Hank keeps one hand on a gun as they climb up the stairs until eventually they come to a stop in front of a door. Connor takes a deep breath and knocks.

Few minutes pass before the door swings open and the brothers are now standing face to face with each other.

“Connor?”

“Hi, Niles. It’s been a while.”


	4. contact the living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor get a chance to know Niles better than they thought they would.

Hank’s nose is scrunched up as a cat walks right through his lap.

There are many things that he hates about their current situation. He hates the creepy vibe that radiates so strongly off of Niles. He hates the five cats that are constantly roaming around them, rubbing up against their feet, their sides, their everything. He hates that itch in his fingers that tells him to pull out the gun and point it at Connor’s brother. He hates that they’re just sitting on his couch and pretending as if there’s nothing wrong going on.

If there’s one thing that Hank has noticed about Niles right off the bat, it’s that he seems much colder than his brother. He’s taller, too, with piercing blue eyes where Connor’s brown would be. He’s stiff, too polite and too stoic for Hank’s liking. He immediately let them inside and didn’t seem to be all that bothered by his brother showing up at his doorstep, with no heads up and with a complete stranger at his side. Hank doesn’t have a good feeling about any of this.

While Niles is perched on a coffee table, one leg crossed over the other, Hank and Connor are squeezed on a tiny couch in front of it. Every few minutes, there’s a cat passing by their faces. Niles holds one of them in his arms and pets it slowly. Hank can picture him as an old movie villain and he has a hard time getting that image out of his head. Either that, or Connor’s brother is an actual witch. Hank’s not happy with either of these options.

“This comes as… quite a surprise, brother,” Niles looks between both of them, something skeptical in his face and voice as he speaks.

“I’m sorry, Niles. I know I should’ve given you a heads up, but-” Connor glances over at Hank, hoping for some sort of support.

So far, they’ve been trying their best not to reveal the truth, to varying degrees of success. While Connor is a fine liar, it’s very clear he wants to tell his brother the truth. Hank, meanwhile, is too focused on how uncomfortable he feels to really try to make their story believable.

"It was pretty unexpected for us, too." 

Niles lets his eyes drift over to Hank and then his gaze locks on the man for a longer while. Hank narrows his eyes in response, fully aware that Connor's brother is now trying to figure out who he really is. If he's somehow involved with the demons, the chances that he'll see through him are quite high. Hank shifts in his chair uncomfortably. 

"So who are you again?"

Hank and Connor are suddenly painfully aware that they should've came up with a cover story before showing up at Niles doorstep. There's a beat of silence and then Connor reaches over to place his hand on top of Hank's, grinning innocently at his brother.

"Hank's my boyfriend."

Hank nearly sputters at that, barely covering a look of shock in his face. Niles just raises an eyebrow, observing then carefully. 

"Your boyfriend. I didn't realize you were interested in relationships, brother." 

Connor shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. His grip on Hank's hand is deadly. 

"It happened quite naturally," he responds, "Right, Hank?" 

The hunter stares at his companion for a long while, clearly trying to comprehend the question. He nods, slowly, somehow managing a smile that's not entirely honest. "Yes, exactly," he mutters, turning his attention back to Niles. 

Niles’ gaze switches between the two of them before he slides off the table and stands up. He places the cat down on the ground, letting it scurry away from them. Once his hands are free, he crosses his arms. 

"Connor, I appreciate the attempt, but you know I can see right through you," he says slowly. 

Hank smiles thickly at the words. Neither him nor Connor let go of each other’s hand. 

"I don't know what you mean," Connor tries once again, but it’s a miserable attempt. 

Niles huffs in response and suddenly he's pulling out a gun from somewhere under his suit jacket. He points it at Hank who tenses up in an instant but makes no move otherwise. Connor's eyes widen and he stands up, only to have the barrel directed at him. 

"Don't move," Niles orders, strangely calm for the situation, "Who are you really?" With that he points the gun at Hank once again. 

"A hunter," Hank grits through his teeth, "And how about you tell us what the fuck are you doing?" 

"A hunter," Niles repeats. His hand doesn't waver, "What have you gotten yourself into, Connor, since when are you hanging out with hunters?" 

"Since he saved my life. From demons." 

That sentence is enough to get Niles’ full attention. He looks at his brother, lowers the gun. Surprise is written all over his face. He opens his mouth, but that's when Hank moves forward. In a few swift movements he knocks the gun out of Niles’ hands, but it seems like the man doesn't even try to resist it. He stumbles back into the coffee table but quickly straightens himself, ignoring Hank completely as the hunter picks the weapon up. 

"They went after you?" 

"So you know something about them, huh?" Hank cuts in sharply. He's tired of tip-toeing around the topic, of the mysteries, of having guns pointed at him. 

Niles sighs heavily, his eyes wandering off in another direction as he thinks. He rests his hands on the table behind him, leans on it, then looks up at the duo in front of him.

"Yes," he responds honestly, "I've been trying to hide from them for a while so of course I know." 

Connor hesitantly sits down, but Hank remains standing, more tense than ever and frustrated. 

"Why?" he barks

"Wouldn't you like to know," Niles responds sarcastically, shaking his head. "It's not very important at the moment, no?" 

Hank takes a step closer to him. "I think it's pretty damn important, asshole." 

What he gets in response is a small snort as Connor's brother stares back at him, crossing his arms on top of his chest in a very similar manner to Hank. "What is important is whether you've got those demons tailing you right to where I am." 

"We didn't-" Connor starts, but then stops immediately, realization suddenly dawning upon him. He glances over at Hank, searching for some sort of support. "They wouldn't- right?" 

Hank runs a hand down his face, keeps his eyes on Niles for another long moment before suddenly shaking his head as if he made up his mind about something. 

"I'm done with this bullshit. I don't even know why the fuck am I getting dragged into whatever it is you-" He points at Niles with the gun, "-are doing." 

He lowers his hand and reaches around Niles to drop the gun onto the table with a rather loud clank. Connor watches with wide eyes as he walks around him and makes his way towards the door. Even Niles seems taken aback by the whole situation, remaining completely silent. There's a loud thud as Hank exits the apartment, the door closing right behind him. Connor stands up, but then stops suddenly, unsure of what he should do. Stay with his brother or go after the man who he's only known for a few days at most. 

"Niles, what's going on?" He finally decides to turn towards his brother. Niles lets air out of his lungs and shakes his head. He reaches for the gun and hides behind his clothes. 

"Nothing that you should be involved with, brother," he says, stepping away from the coffee table. His cats appear in the room and circle around his legs. 

"We're trying to help you!" 

"I didn't ask for your help, Connor," Niles spits in response, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue as he meets his brother's gaze, "Go back to Detroit and focus on your store clerk job or whatever it is you're doing these days. And leave demons to people who actually know how to handle them."

Niles has always been good at using words to hit where it hurt the most and Connor has always known that. But he has never truly expected his brother to use that skill against him. He feels his hands curling into fists and he takes a few quick strides to stand right in front of him. He has to look up at him to meet his eye, but he doesn't let that stop him. 

"You know nothing about me, Niles." 

He doesn't look back at him as he walks out of the apartment. He feels broken and lost and he's suddenly aware of how insane all this is. His breath comes out in short puffs and his knees are weak, but as he finally gets outside, a sudden wave of relief washes over him. The car is still there, Hank and Sumo inside, waiting for him. Despite the tears in his eyes, he smiles. 

* * *

_ Scratch. Scratch.  _

Connor's fork moves across the plate one more time, scraping against the surface, the most annoying of sounds. He's barely touched his food, instead only poking at it. Hank glares at his plate, but Connor doesn't seem to get the message, metal scraping over the porcelain one more time. 

"Are you going to ever finish this?" Hank asks gruffly, waving at his food. 

Connor looks up at him, startled out of his thoughts. "Yes!" he responds quickly, but as he looks down at his plate, he deflates. "...maybe not. I'm not really hungry." 

"You've been real weird ever since we left your brother’s." 

Connor makes a face, but he knows Hank's right. No matter how relieving it was to return to the hunter and his dog, Connor is still hurt and upset and most of all, worried. Niles was keeping something from them, something that could potentially be dangerous. 

"I… appreciate that you waited for me. That you stayed," Connor says softly, glancing up at Hank who rolls his eyes in response. 

"What, did you think I was just going to dump you there? I was mad at your brother, not you, Con." 

Connor lowers his gaze and nods in understanding. He feels Hank's foot nudging at his, though the man says nothing. 

"Niles’ not usually like this," Connor speaks up at some point. 

"Didn't you say you two haven't seen each other in forever?" 

"Yes, but he's my brother, I know him. We care about each other. Something must've happened." 

Hank groans, leaning back in his seat. He puts his arms behind his head and rests it on them. "Or maybe he just turned into a dick with age. Who the hell knows." 

Connor gives him a pointed look, but he doesn't try to argue. While a part of him still desperately holds onto the hope that Niles is still the brother that he knows so well, another part tells him that maybe Hank is right. 

"But you do agree he was acting suspicious, though. That there's something he hasn't told us." 

Hank sighs, but gives a firm nod. "Yeah, duh. It's not like he was doing a good job of hiding it." 

Connor hums at his response and slowly places his fork down. He rubs at his temple, turning his gaze towards the window. It's getting late, now, and yet they haven't had the chance to make much progress. Connor really hoped dealing with his brother would be easier than this. 

"We used to be really close," he says suddenly, turning his attention back to Hank even though his mind is somewhere far. "Me and Niles, when we were young. Our mother has always been quite strict and demanding, so we stuck close together, even when she tried to compare us, to make one of us better than the other. Niles has always gotten along with her better, though, so I was the first one to move away. That's how we drifted away from each other. I was away, while he was still with her.”

Hank tilts his head, his eyes shining with genuine interest in what Connor has to say about his family. 

"Your mother sounds like she sucks," he comments crudely. 

Connor quickly shakes his head, though there's a small smile playing in the corner of his mouth 

"She's not that bad," he tells him, "She’s always wanted the best for us, she just didn't know how to go about it. She adopted and raised us all on her own, while also pursuing her own career. Perhaps she wasn't meant to be a mother, but I am grateful that she took us in." 

"You're really damn forgiving." 

Connor shrugs, "I don't know if I'd call it that. I have cut her off, still." 

"Families are messy," Hank mutters, wiping his fingers off with a napkin and moving to stand up. Connor follows him with his gaze, tries to catch his eye. 

"Do you really think so?" he asks quietly. 

There's something that breaks in Hank at the question, something small but still very noticeable. Meaningful. He presses his lips together and shakes his head. Connor's not sure if that was his response or if he was just trying to dismiss the question. 

"We should go now, kid," he says, his voice strangely gentle. 

Before he has a chance to move, Connor reaches out to grab his hand. Hank blinks, swallows thickly. 

"I'm sorry," Connor says. 

With a small breath, Hank squeezes his hand, then pulls his out of the kid's grip. He sways on his heel as he waits for Connor to gather himself and then they make their way out of the diner, arm in arm. Some silent understanding has been reached, another step forward. 

* * *

It's completely dark around them as they make their way from the car to their motel room. There are lamps standing around, but none of them are working. A neon blinks uselessly, half of its letters completely dim. It's cold, freezing even. Connor rubs his arms as he waits for Hank to lock the car. Wind seems to be picking up and it gives him goosebumps, a strange sense of dread seeping in. Hank comes closer to him, his face twisted into something unreadable, something just as restless as the air around them. They take a few steps forward, there's a crack nearby and they both stop, instantly.

"Hank?" Connor mutters, eyes darting all around the darkness. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. 

"Stay behind me," Hank responds, his words followed by a soft 'Got it' as Connor tries to position himself begins the hunter. 

While Connor pulls out his gun, Hank gets out a knife, a strange old thing that Connor recognizes immediately. A demon blade, Hank has told him, one of the few things that can hurt a demon. He knows what the sight of it means. 

"Hank Anderson and his new pet, how lovely to meet you here," a smooth voice, seemingly out of nowhere. The sounds envelop them and for a moment they don't know where to direct their eyes. That is, until a figure walks out from one of the shadows. A pale, thin man, his head shaved on the sides while the middle is pulled back into a neat bun. Dressed in a t-shirt and a suit blazer, his hands in his pants’ pockets, almost casual. He walks forward with a certain confidence in his step. His eyes, an eerie icy blue, but they turn black as soon as Hank and Connor land their eyes on him. 

"Kamski," Hank grunts, raising the knife, "What the fuck do you want?" 

"I've come to pick up a package. Personally, since apparently there's no one else in Hell capable enough to do it," his response is so casual as if there was nothing supernatural going on, as if they were two old colleagues. Connor doesn't know how the two know each other, but he knows now is not the best time to ask. 

"What package?" Hank asks sharply. Kamski finally stops, making sure to put some distance between himself and the hunters. 

"You're a smart man, Lieutenant. I'm sure you can figure it out." 

Hank makes a face as he hears his old rank, but he doesn't waver otherwise. Behind him, Connor raises his gun to point it at the demon.

"You mean me," he says. Kamski smirks, tilts his head to the side. His hand moves up and as he waves it in the air in one smooth motion, the gun flies right out of Connor's grip and tumbles to the ground. He startles, taking a step back. Hank tenses up, his grip on the knife tightening.

"Actually, no. I'm looking for your brother. I'm not so stupid as some others of my kind, I know very well how to tell you apart. I'm just hoping Niles is still sentimental enough to show up when his brother is in danger," he explains calmly. 

"I'll rip your throat out if you even touch him," Hank barks, already rushing towards Kamski. Before he can reach him, though, the demon waves his hand again. Hank is sent flying backwards, knocking right into Connor. They both tumble to the ground, gasping for air. 

"You know I'm stronger than other demons, Lieutenant. It's why you've never tried to fight me, isn't it? So why start now? Hand the boy over to me, let me threaten him a little. I'm not particularly interested in him, anyway," he monologues as he makes his way over to them, Hank's already trying to get back to his feet, but it's difficult. His knife is somewhere on the ground and he tries to spot it, but it's far too dark. Kamski is getting closer and closer and closer. Hank's movements become frantic, but then there's another voice, sudden, even more so than Kamski's appearance. 

"Get away from my brother, Elijah." 

At the sound of a familiar voice, Connor scrambles to sit up. Once he does, he can see him clearly. Niles, standing a few steps behind Kamski, like a dark angel coming to their rescue. How, he doesn't know. 

"There you are!" Kamski says cheerfully, opening up his arms as he turns to face Niles. 

"Didn't I say something already? Get away from my brother," Niles speaks slowly, putting a certain strength to every single words. Kamski looks like he's about to laugh, but then his expression changes, his face goes white. Niles raises a hand and this time it's Kamski who tumbles over to the side. Connor and Hank watch in shock as the demon is tossed to the ground like a ragdoll, like a leaf in the wind. He rolls over the ground, opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but then black smoke comes out of his mouth instead. It flies up into the sky while his body falls to the ground, unconscious. 

When Connor tears his eyes off Kamski, he looks at his brother and his own voice rings in his ears as he yelps.

Niles' eyes are completely black. 


End file.
